


Life Changes

by fawatson



Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: Alexios' mother moves from Ephesus to Britannia.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: Sutcliff Swap 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verecunda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/gifts).



> **Request:** If you’d like to focus more on Mama Alexios herself, I’d certainly like to know more about her. How did she meet Alexios’ father? What was it like for her, leaving behind busy, cosmopolitan Ephesus to come and live on a rural estate in Britain? Does she manage the farm herself, or leave it to a steward? How does she get on with the farm workers and her husband’s extended family? What’s her relationship with Uncle Marius like? I don’t get the feeling they’re very close, but maybe it wasn’t always that way. Maybe Marius is a bit jealous of her for stealing his best pal. (If you want to throw in some flavour of Marius/Alexios’ father, that’s fine by me. The inherent homoeroticism of marrying your sister off to your best friend, and all that….
> 
> **Disclaimer** : I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.

No one ever asked her what she thought. 

Years before Marisa had been a girl in Ephesus, sitting dutifully at home with her grandmother, waiting for her real life to start. She had felt impatient then, full of confidence about what life would give her, eager when post arrived in case it brought word from her father. He was a prosperous merchant who captained one ship and had three others under contract to the military, supplying garrisons off the coast of Hispania. He had contracted for her mother, the daughter of his partner when trading in Asia. Perhaps had the mother lived, the daughter might have seen more of her father. But she had died in childbed and her second child – a boy – had died with her. Soon afterwards a lucrative opportunity had opened up the other side of the sea. Marisa had not seen her father since she was six. 

Throughout her childhood, occasional visits from Marius-the-golden, the only surviving son of her father’s first marriage, punctuated a sedate (some might even say dull) existence. When he had leave, he would bring presents from Constantinople; and take her to the market to buy honey cakes and sugared almonds. Then he was posted to Gaul. He had not been back for two years now. Gaul was just too far away. 

She several years past marriageable age when the summons came. A weather-stained missive arrived telling her of her father’s death some six months past, his ship sunk in a gale off the coast of Olisipo during last winter. Marisa had not even known he had died. Hurriedly she put the letter to one side while she changed the household god and burned some incense, saying a prayer for her father, lest his shade haunt her for not showing him due respect. Then she was distracted by two of the slaves quarrelling. She sent one to market to buy bread; the other she set to dusting. She was getting ready to retire for the night before she found time to read the last few lines of Marius’ letter: she was to leave Ephesus and travel to Britannia and keep house for him. 

Marisa had waited for years for just this; had the letter come even six months sooner she thought she would have been packed and been ready in three days. But now…there was Avia to think of. Marisa procrastinated. Avia slept often these days; it was not difficult to hide the letter from the increasingly frail old lady, at least while she thought what to say and do. 

Plus, it wasn’t as if she had no other things to occupy her. Her little white and brown spotted bitch, Ceci gave birth the next evening. Marisa sat with her while the dog whimpered and strained, rubbing her ears and stroking her flanks soothingly. It was late before all three pups finally arrived. Two were strong, healthy little beasts and suckled strongly. But the third was small, and slow to draw breath. She cleared its nose but then the girl pup struggled to latch on. Patiently she supported the tiny body, holding it to Ceci’s belly, protecting her from her stronger brothers who would have pushed her out of their way as they clambered eagerly over their mother. To no avail: by morning she had to concede this little one was not going to survive. She cradled the pup who looked so like her mother, cried over her, then buried her beneath the shade of the oleander. 

“When are you going to tell me what the letter said, child?” Avia asked the next day after _cena_. 

You knew?” Marisa was surprised. 

“I am old child, not daft,” Avia laughed. “And Tia chatters constantly.” 

“Marius has been posted to Britannia,” Marisa began slowly.

“And?” 

“And he wants me to join him there.” 

Avia waited silently. 

“How can I go?” Marisa protested. “How can I leave my mother’s mother alone?” 

“How can you _not_ go?” Avia reminded her calmly, “Marius is the _pater familias_ now; and you owe him obedience.” She looked at her granddaughter’s troubled face. “Besides, it is past time you were married. That he has remembered you – summoned you – suggests he has someone in mind.” 

“No one _I_ know.” Marisa hid her uneasiness by scraping the remains of their meals into one bowl which she took over to Ceci who lay on a blanket in one corner of the room. She sat beside her pet, stroking her ears and murmuring endearments. 

“It is enough that _he_ knows. Marius was always sensible; you can trust he will have chosen someone like-minded.” Avia did not add that it was high-time her granddaughter had something other than puppies to moon over. 

“I won’t go without you!” 

“Did he ask for me?” 

Marisa shook her head. 

“I thought not,” Avia replied. “He knows better than to expect an old lady to uproot herself from all she has ever known to traipse off to the other side of the empire – and a cold damp windy outpost of civilisation from everything _I’ve_ ever heard. It’s a place for the young not the old. ” 

“But what will you do without me?” 

“Your cousin Olivia and her family will come to stay.”

“But you’ve always said–” 

“Perhaps I’ve always said too much!” Avia’s voice was stern. “I may think the man her father chose for Olivia is a toady; but he will be in _my _house, that _she_ will inherit after I am gone; and I expect we will do quite well together once I have reminded him of that fact.” __

__Marisa smiled. There could be no doubt of _that_. _ _

__“Come child,” Avia said, “there is much to organise. Let us start by looking through my jewellery for the pieces you will take with you. For if Olivia is to have my house, you must take its equivalent with you.”_ _

__The next two weeks passed by in a blur of sorting and packing. Passage was booked on a ship that would make the long journey across Mare Nostrum and through the Pillars of Hercules to the ocean beyond. There were tears when, finally, she said goodbye. Avia came as far as the vestibulum but refused to accompany Marisa to the docks._ _

__“Far too busy for me,” she declared. “I can do without all those crowds jostling me.”_ _

__“Write to me?” Marisa pleaded, “Every week? So, I know you are well.”_ _

__“I shall write to tell you when I have found good homes for those puppies.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

The trip had been interminable. Marisa had not thought to be seasick; she was the daughter and granddaughter of sea captains, after all. The calm sea around Syracuse and across the top of Numidia had been deceptive. Once they passed Ossonoba the water turned grey and choppy and the gentle winds blew fiercely. She had intended to stand on deck and make sacrifice when they passed Olisipo; but all passengers were confined to their berths in a blustering storm and she spent the better part of three days with her head in a pot. She did not see deck until they put into Brigantium for repairs. She walked along the quay that afternoon, stopping at a stall to buy some fruit for the next leg of her journey. But her legs felt too shaky to tempt her to explore any further. 

Marisa was heartily tired of her journey long before the ship docked in Magnus Portus. Her skin felt positively _caked_ in salt; and try as she might to keep her hair decently bound, the wind as always had had its way, and it was a mess that looked as if birds had been nesting in it. She stood on deck as the ship master shouted and his sailors scurried and the ship crept close to the quay and then came to rest with a shudder to its timbers. They had docked at enough ports on the dreadful trip for her to realise now just how much skill it took to bring the galley in with so light a touch. Her eyes searched hard for Marius; but she could not see him. There were people clearly waiting for passengers to disembark; but she did not recognise her brother amongst them. Had he changed so much since last she saw him? Or had he forgotten. 

But as two seamen carried her trunks down the gangplank a centurion approached, bowed respectfully, and introduced himself: Caius Flavius Aquila. 

“Your brother was unexpectedly summoned by the Commander so he sent me to meet you. He should be here tomorrow.” 

She smiled wanly at the young man, shivering slightly in the cool breeze off the water, and trying to hide her anxiety. “If you could point me to an inn, I would be very grateful.” 

“I can do better than that,” he said. “If you can bear another journey – not a long one,” he reassured. “My family’s farm is not far and I have a wagon for your baggage.” 

“But I cannot stay with you!” she protested. 

“With my mother,” he explained. “She lives very quietly these days but even so, she would never let me take you to an inn.” 

He helped her climb into the wagon, carefully placing cushions to soften her seat, before he mounted his dark bay mare. The thought of more travelling – and this time in a rough cart that jolted horribly over the cobbled streets – was daunting. But at least she was on dry land this time; and, once away from the port, the wind dropped. The sunshine warmed; the pink and white flowers on the shrubs growing at the side of the road welcomed; and the road beckoned, straight and well-paved. Marisa felt her spirits lift. 

She was, nonetheless, drooping by the time they turned off onto a winding dirt track that led to a small villa; and, as she got down from the cart, she stumbled on the unevenly paved terrace in front of the entrance. A slip of a girl, with straw-coloured hair and pale grey eyes caught her elbow to steady her. 

“Bree will see to your needs,” said Gaius, “and tomorrow will be soon enough to meet people.” 

“Your mother–”

“Will understand.” 

The balineum was tiny, which was only to be expected in a private house, but well-appointed nonetheless. Marisa nibbled on oatcakes, cheese and apple slices as the servant girl sponged away the dirt of her journey, before easing her into a small deep tub of warm water to soak while she unwound her knotted hair and carefully oiled and combed out the tangles. It took a long time before her hair was finally ready to be soaped and then rinsed with water from a jug. She rose from the now cooling water and was wrapped in towels, and offered a comfortable wicker chair, before Bree left her alone. A jug and two cups rested on a small table. Marisa half-filled one, took a deep swallow, and sat contemplating the scene on the cup she had chosen. It had been painted in the Attic style, black figures on red glaze, showing Odysseus and Circe. The wine was decently watered, but nonetheless made her head swim. 

“I trust you are feeling better now?” 

Marisa started; she had not realised anyone had entered the room, and began to rise. 

“No, don’t get up,” the old lady said. “I only came to bring you one of my tunics. After travelling on that horrid ship for so long I expect all your own clothes will be stiff from the salty sea breezes; and you would like something fresh.” 

Marisa’s eyes widened slightly. That was a tactful way of putting it. 

“If you would like, Bree can sort through and arrange for your clothes to be cleaned – yes?” 

Marisa nodded, “Yes, please.” 

“Then I will leave you in peace to enjoy your repast, and will see you in the morning. Gaius says we can expect your brother by midday; and then we can discuss how long you will be staying.” 

The long journey had taxed her, leaving everything she knew behind, and as the days had turned into weeks Marisa’s anxieties had grown. But here was welcome; perhaps she could relax now.


	3. Chapter 3

Marisa groaned as she bore down with the contraction. She felt she had been labouring for days, though in reality she knew it had only been since last night. The pains came fast now, without much respite in between. It could not be long now before her baby was born. The midwife sat between her legs, inelegantly splayed, ready to catch the babe when it was born. Her left hand gripped Bree’s; her right the cook’s. 

Between contractions she prayed to Fecunditas: make this child be a boy. She had disappointed Gaius’ mother when she miscarried her first baby, and then not conceived again quickly. No matter that Gaius had been absent more often than not, and his infrequent visits were always brief. His mother blamed her when there was no sign of a new baby for two years. No matter that two months after the miscarriage Marisa had discovered her husband and brother together in bed one afternoon. It had…illuminated…a few things for her; but it did not change her duty as a wife one iota. However, he had had a nasty sword wound in his thigh several months before, which meant Gaius was sent home for six weeks. There had been almost daily missives delivered from Marius – and daily replies from Gaius. But Marius had not been there; and Marisa was. 

Once she realised Marisa had fallen pregnant again, Camilla’s attitude had softened. The choicest meats, cheeses and fruits were provided; nothing was too much for the mother of the expected grandchild. Not for the first time Marisa thought Camilla would never forgive if this child turned out to be a girl. All she talked about was her plans for her grandson. No girl baby would be good enough. Not when there could be no chance of another, with Gaius dead three months since in a skirmish on the northern border. 

“Now!” the midwife commanded. “Push hard!” 

Her groan rose to a scream as her baby was born and she lost consciousness. She woke several minutes later to find Camilla seated beside her bed, babe in arms. Her eyes glowed; her smile beamed. So it must be a boy….

For this she had left behind sweet-natured Avia – missed those last precious months of her life, spending them instead with her increasingly acerbic mother-in-law. For this she had left behind her beloved Ceci and her pups, to join a household where the only dogs were working animals kept out in the barn. 

No one ever asked Marisa what she thought. But maybe…just maybe…this baby was worth it. She hoped so.


End file.
